Found in the Silences
by Aenigmata
Summary: Pre-show. Robin/Marian. A series of vignettes about the nature of Robin and Marian’s relationship before Robin goes off to war.
1. Chapter 1

_Pre-show. Robin/Marian. Part one of a series of introspective vignettes about the nature of Robin and Marian's relationship before Robin goes off to war. This seems to be a popular arc, but one that is infinitely intriguing to me and hopefully to you! As always, I don't own it, I'm merely a dabbler. _

_Please read, review, and enjoy! _

Marian knew, the moment _he _nimbly leapt off his most spirited horse with his infuriating grin and sopping with barely constrained mischief on the castle steps, that she was in for a long day.

Not that she had not had many of these in the past few years, but there was something particularly distracting about the boy in recent months which made her long days seem to melt away entirely too quickly.

As it was, she hadn't entirely forgiven him for their last encounter (a rather heated discussion on Marian's riding through Sherwood alone, being a 'delicate lady' as Robin had so succinctly, and mistakenly, put it), and he had a habit of being unpredictable.

"Ah, Sir Robert, and young Robin!" Her father made his way down the castle steps, arms wide, and embraced the aging (but nonetheless handsome, she secretly conceded) Lord of Locksley. The old friends immediately vaulted from exchanged pleasantries to friendly catch-up as Sir Edward signaled the stable boys for the horses.

Which left her to Robin.

She turned her attention back to him, just barely restraining herself from rolling her eyes as he appraised her, his hands behind his back and rocking slightly on his heels, obviously intent on making her begin the pleasantries. She tried to ignore the flutter in her chest as he raised his eyebrows and pursed his lips in a barely contained smirk.

"Robin," she nodded stiffly. "I hope you have been well."

"I most certainly have, I thank you for asking," he said, unable to keep his face straight any longer. Even formalities seemed a light mocking on his lips.

He walked up the steps and took her hand, bending down slightly to brush his lips against her knuckles, his shining eyes on her the entire time, waiting for a reaction. She stared past him at the gates, which (as she noticed every time this happened as she battled the blush that was creeping up her neck) were a very dull shade of gray indeed.

"I must say that you look exceptionally well today, Marian," he whispered as he straightened up, testing the limits of propriety, and her own will power, by placing a light kiss on her earlobe. She could make no reaction--as he was very well aware if his smug grin was anything to go on--as her father was only feet away.

Otherwise, he would have been dealing with something bruised, whether it be his lips or his cheek.

Before any more words could be exchanged, luckily restraining the ones on her tongue that she would have regretted later, her father addressed him cordially.

"Robin, your father has said you have been anxious to visit the castle recently. As much as I admire your sudden interest in court, something tells me that you have more of an interest in being here for archery rather than politics."

He nodded with an obligingly abashed grin and gave a slight bow with his head in deference. He gave a nervous glance from Marian back to her father. "That, among other things." Odd. Marian filed the comment away quickly, however, as she turned her energies to glaring fiercely at his newly adopted cocky smirk and suggestive wink.

"Robin, do not antagonize the poor girl," Sir Robert chided, smiling despite his sudden cough and as perceptive as ever, but his voice lacked any real conviction. It was no secret that he thought that she and Robin were a spectacular match, and that Robin needed all the help he could get in winning her, 'the feisty little filly' as he called her.

Sir Edward was slightly less liberal, as most fathers with free thinking, spirited daughters are in the matters of men. He most likely thought that he was being discreet, but Marian saw the way he balked when he caught the mischievous Locksley boy eying his only daughter.

But even so, they were not overly chaperoned (in large part from Sir Robert's insistences on 'only being in young love once' and in some account because he had seen, first hand, how Robin had looked the one time he had crossed a line of propriety when she had not been the receptive Marian he had encountered in less innocent instances), and she felt a headache growing when the atmosphere abruptly shifted from friendly to business.

"Marian, show Robin to the new archery ring, and lend him your bow."

Marian gave her father a disbelieving look, which he silenced immediately with a reprimanding expression that he had only perfected through intense practice with her willfulness over the past 17 years. _Behave yourself._

Robin's smug grin was all she could see as he peered around her father's back. Her irritation at him was barely concealed, her nails curling into her palms at her side as she forced her grinding teeth to salvage a reply.

"Of course, Father."

"And then to your embroidery lesson." It was not a question.

Her cheeks colored slightly in childish frustration and embarrassment as Robin thanked her father and resolved to meet his own father at Locksley after court, the laughter in his tone apparent even though his voice had grown faint as she stormed down the corridor.

But, as always, he didn't let her go far. "I never knew you were so fond of embroidery, Marian, to be taking it at a run."

She whipped around, yanking her arm out of the tender grip he had used to slow her. Dear God, she wanted to strike him across the face. But her own stubborn pride at appearing more dignified than such acts restrained her. "Robin of Locksley, I swear on your soul if you do not stop mocking me, I _will_ make sure this visit you have _so_ been looking forward to leaves a permanent impression on more than just your memory."

He was leaning against the wall, the picture of ease, with his hands crossed on his chest and a tolerantly amused expression trained on her through her tirade, his lips pursed in a way that suggested he hadn't heard a word of what she said in his attempt not to laugh at the way her cheeks were flushed and her expression called for blood.

"You swear on _my_ soul? A little melodramatic, don't you think? And that is all assuming I _have_ a soul."

"Robin," Marian chastised sharply, glancing around quickly as if his words had enticed a demon with a similar thought pattern.

"Come now, Marian…do not worry overly much. The only ways I can imagine sacrificing my soul all involve your participation." He grabbed her skirts and tugged at them slightly in a kind of thinly veiled suggestion, pulling her unceremoniously, and wildly improperly, towards him.

"Robin!" she hissed, mildly scandalized but mostly exasperated. She fought the smile tugging at her lips at his raised eyebrows and boyish grin.

He leaned down to steal a kiss, but she was prepared and propelled herself from his embrace, desperately trying to remember why she had been so resolvedly annoyed with him before when all she wanted to do now was continue this impropriety in a darker alcove.

"Do not get any ideas."

He sighed good-naturedly. "Ah, you're a spoilsport, Marian."

"As ever," she said dryly, rolling her eyes and turning towards her room. She waited for the swelling of her anger at having to not only lend Robin her own bow, but to miss archery for embroidery, but it only ebbed as he followed her.

She could hardly concentrate on anything but the warmth that spread through her as she played his newly discovered game: his fingers darting in and out of hers as she pulled back automatically, seeing how long he dared hold her hand without getting a firm smack or strange looks from others in the castle. He was incorrigible.

"Do you remember the games we used to play in these halls?" he asked nostalgically, swinging their (now) interlocked hands absentmindedly. She had, against her better judgment, let him win.

She smiled. "How can I forget? You tried to place a newt down my dress. Where did you get that, anyway?"

He laughed and turned to her with an irresistible smile, his eyebrows raised. "Now that is a secret I will take to my grave. And you would probably rather not know, though I am sure that if I told you, you would appreciate how much I happened to like you, considering how much effort I put forth in obtaining it."

She rolled her eyes. "Yes, because I would value the fact that you had retrieved an instrument of torment because you _liked_ me."

He shrugged. "I did not say it made _sense_. I was twelve."

She shook her head, still smiling at the memories, and pulled at his hand to keep them moving, but he pushed her gently against the closest wall.

"I have learned better ways of expressing my admiration of you, Marian," he whispered, his breath warm next to her ear. She felt her breath hitch, her cheeks flush, and the inane, girlish smile that always seem to erupt when he was near appear.

"Robin, we shouldn't…" But her hands wove their way around his neck and her words spoke less with intended meaning, and more with opposite feeling. His smile was brilliant and adoring.

"Methinks the lady doth protest too much."

"Oh, grow up." He gave a short laugh and leaned in as she insistently tugged at his neck, impatient for the feel of his lips on her own.

"I've missed you," he whispered, a breadth's width from her lips, tantalizingly close. She groaned in frustration.

"Yes, yes, I've missed you, too. Horribly." He gave another laugh at her snappy impatience, though she knew that he hadn't missed her sincerity underneath the quick words. She really had missed him in the four days she had not seen him, as ridiculous as the logical part of her brain thought it was.

"Would you like to know what I have done in your absence?" He asked teasingly, pulling her even closer with no immediate intention to give into what he was suggesting.

She pushed against his chest again and tried to squirm out of his grip. "Soon you will have to add _this_ to your tale, Locksley. And I will not be the one listening to it."

He grinned again, but this time relented, unable to keep himself away. She sighed gratefully as he finally kissed her, not realizing how much she had longed for his touch until it began and too soon threatened itself away again.

With its usual thief.

"Master! Master!" Much's cries forced them reluctantly apart, their lips lingering until the echoes bouncing off the walls became one resounding beckoning. Marian groaned and hit her head lightly on his chest as he kissed her fondly on the forehead. "Finally! I've been traipsing around this dank castle for ages. Someone really ought to see to the decorating, some of those tapestries are truly _revolting_--"

"Much," Robin said impatiently, his eyes closing in grating annoyance at being interrupted. Despite Marian's usual defense of Much, she couldn't help but wish the manservant would have _slightly_ more subtlety. "_Shut up_."

He huffed. "Well, you don't have to be like that. If you two weren't always off gallivanting and purposely trying to incite poor Sir Edward to an early grave with your antics, I wouldn't have to come chaperone you. I had to ride _half a mile_ behind you because my Lord only mentioned needing me as you were leaving! Half a mile! Believe me, I would much rather be elsewhere, enjoying a rare day of peace."

Robin shot Marian a secret, knowing look at her just as she did him. Despite Much's fussing, they knew that he actually reveled in their clever, reckless adventures. Though on their recent _adventures_, many of which seemed to end in unsurprisingly similar (and increasingly un-pious) ways, she couldn't help but wish Much would find his own games.

"We weren't doing anything," Marian defended, though she was suddenly aware that she had not yet freed her arms from around Robin's neck and his hands were still resting low on her hips. Much gave a cough; Robin, a frustrated sigh as he gently unwound her hands from their resting place.

"If you are quite finished, shall we?"

Much led the way and continued to talk as they made their way to Marian's room to fetch her bow, Robin once again playfully swinging their linked hands, this time to aim 'accidental' hits at Much's back to interrupt his soothing babbling about tapestries and sweet cakes. She could not help but smile at the familiarity of it all as they wove their way to her chambers.

Once they arrived, she slipped into her room alone, although Robin was quite ready to follow (and even had a few suggestions as to alternate, un-archery related activities should she be interested), and made them wait outside, her brow furrowing in frustration as she stared ruefully at her shoddily made embroidered flower she should have finished two weeks ago.

It was not a difficult decision then, nor an unexpected one to her companions, to grab her spare bow, embroidery be damned.

"Here," she said, handing the spare to Robin, who frowned at it.

"This is not your bow."

"No," she said a matter-a-factly. "_This_ is my bow. Which is why I am using it."

Robin sighed. "Marian, you have an embroidery lesson."

"Yes, and I would expect that the other women have by now discovered that I do not like embroidery."

"Your father expects you to go."

Marian frowned. "Then I will disobey him."

"Marian…"

"I do not know why we are still having this conversation," she said angrily, more than a little irrationally hurt by his seeming want to get rid of her. "If you do not want me to come because I am a woman, Locksley, I will…"

"You _know_ that is not the reason. I never suggested it was--" But there was something in his tone beyond his usual exasperation that was sharp and annoyed, as if her continuing presence was ruining his chance at obtaining something important.

"What must I do to prove myself? You know that I could out fight more than half the boys in Locksley, you have said it before, and yet you still treat me as inferior! What must I do, Robin?"

His face was clouding with anger now as well. "Listen to me and your father, and go be a _proper_, obedient woman!"

He had crossed that line again. She felt frustrated tears well up behind her eyes immediately, but she forced them not to fall. He deflated almost instantly.

"Marian, I didn't…"

"Go towards the courtyard, take a left, and then the door next to the lion statue. That will lead you to the targets," she said coldly, her instructions directed at Much. She turned on her heel, ignoring Robin's protests and Much's sighs, and fled into her room, slamming the door.

She spent her embroidery lesson piercing patterns with her needle rather more forcefully than was entirely necessary, pretending the whole time that the cloth was Robin's head.


	2. Chapter 2

_Pre-show. Robin/Marian. Part deux in which Robin visits Marian at Knighton and shenanigans ensue. Thank you to all my lovely reviewers, I love to know what you guys think!_

_As always, I don't own it, I'm merely a dabbler. _

_Please read, review, and enjoy!_

"You haven't come to see me in a few days. I've missed you."

Marian ignored Robin and continued coaxing the knots out of her hair as he leaned precariously on her window sill.

For once, she desperately wished she were back in the secure walls of the castle rather than the comfort, and unfortunately accessible, lodging that was her beautiful home. She and her father had returned to Knighton three days prior, though she had most uncharacteristically protested adamantly against it. Uncharacteristic, perhaps, to her father, but perfectly logical to Marian, who was driven only by the desire to not have an arrogant fool scaling the house to her bedroom at all hours of the night. Especially when she was still furious at said fool.

"Get out."

"Technically, you'll find, I am not _in_."

A glance in the mirror captured his smirk. She wanted to scream at the top of her lungs, but she merely ripped through her hair with her brush, gritting her teeth at the pain of harshly pulling through tangles.

"Marian, you cannot still be angry with me."

She did not answer, and did not stop her insistent hair-tugging, willing him silently to leave. But, as usual, Robin defied such simple wishes and bounded more or less gracefully through her window. He stepped behind her, placing his warm hands on her shoulders. She immediately flinched them away.

"Do not touch me. You already confess to impropriety as being one of my _womanly_ weaknesses," she said acerbically. He frowned, all attempted good humor gone.

"I should not have said that. I did not mean it."

"Well, I am telling you to get out, and I do mean it."

He sighed in frustration. "Come on, Marian, you are acting like a child. I said it for a reason."

She gave a disbelieving laugh, disregarding her curiosity for a moment as to his supposed reason. "You are unbelievable. _I_ am acting like a child? You had a row with Much less than a month ago because he beat you in a horse race!"

"He did _not_ beat me!" Robin said indignantly. "I let him win! Besides, he was borrowing one of _my_ horses!"

"Grow up," Marian snapped, still distinctly irritated. "Why are you here, anyway? You are not welcome, especially not in my bedroom. If my father catches you…"

"Your father is downstairs with the other noblemen. And as long as you do not make a fuss…" He gazed at her imploringly.

God, how she hated that look. Now she couldn't refuse him.

He grinned broadly and kissed the top of her head boldly before she responded, moving about her room as if he belonged there. Arrogant fool.

She placed her brush down and sighed, turning towards him. "You are in now. What do you want?"

"To spend time with you," he answered, picking up her string of pearls and analyzing their complexities before tying them about his neck.

"Shouldn't you and Much being doing your rounds in the village?"

He shrugged, now examining her bookcase. "Much is covering for me."

She rolled her eyes. "And by that you mean that Much was chaperoning you and you snuck away?"

He smiled but didn't look at her, leafing through a small book and then throwing it on her bed. "Exactly. And you say that you do not understand me."

She grabbed the book from the bed and placed it back as Robin threw another in its place. "Robin, that is irresponsible. You have an obligation to your villagers…"

"And I also have an obligation to you." He was grinning that grin of his again, the one meant for charming. Of course, it worked.

"And what would that be?"

He took a step closer and put his hand on her cheek as it began to flush.

"To keep you entertained."

She stepped away from him, sure that she could not control herself if she stayed that close to him. She almost felt comfortable when her knees hit something solid.

He laughed huskily as her knees crumpled underneath her and she fell onto the bed, surprise on her face, but eagerness and curiosity filling her blue eyes with a fascinating darkness.

"Are you afraid of me, my lady?" he asked, following her movements as she scrambled back.

"We should really not be doing this," she muttered, biting her lip as she glanced at the door, but not stopping his advances.

"You're a spoilsport," he said with his usual cheeky grin, at which point he usually stopped. Such was the code. But she was finding propriety to be a blurring line rather than a set barrier.

He was at the bed then, his hands on either side of her as he crawled up her reclining body without touching her. Her hands grasped the bed sheets beneath her when he reached her lips, her frantic mind determined to freeze this indiscretion.

But the rest of her wouldn't wait any longer.

With a powerful jerk on his collar, she threw him on top of her, kissing him hungrily. But he could never be thrown so easily, even in her presence (which acted as a kind of breath wrenching intoxication to every one of his senses, he'd told her once); he responded immediately, his hands reaching lower to massage her hips.

It was a frenzied, passionate embrace they shared, made doubly reckless and hopelessly intoxicating by the fact that she could actually hear her father's soft murmuring and the guttural responses from the other lords present in the main hall. Should one of the maids stop in at her father's request, or her father, to enquire after her, all they would have to do was walk through the unlocked door and then…

Her heart gave a sharp squeeze of giddiness and she wove her hands into his short hair, kissing him more fervently than she had ever dared. She felt one of his hands begin tracing a path up her leg beneath her skirt, soft and deft.

"Marry me," he breathed against her lips, immediately drowning her in another kiss.

Frozen.

"What?"

"Marry me," he repeated, though his tone lacked the confidence of the first time, and he drew back, keeping his eyes fixed on her with determination. She had only ever seen him have the same look on his beautiful face when he had been given his first long bow.

She sucked in a sharp breath, her eyes wide. How was she supposed to respond to that _now_? She could barely form coherent thoughts, no less make a decision. "Aren't you supposed to ask?" she responded automatically, nearly cringing as the words left her lips. It was reflexive to chip away at his overblown ego, but she knew this wasn't really the time.

She hadn't been sure _what_ she had been afraid of happening after she said that, but the warmth of his body bolting off of hers was a deep loss she hadn't anticipated.

She propped herself up on her elbows as he moved quickly to the window, hastily gathering the thoughts amidst the din in her head.

_Yes, yes, YES!_

"Robin!"

He stopped as if he had been suddenly hammered into the floor, his hand resting on the ledge of the window. He didn't turn towards her but she could see in the tensioned bend of his back that he was shuddering. She moved to the edge of her bed and stood resolutely.

"Forget it, I did not…"

"Yes."

His sharp breath made his thin frame expand noticeably, and he turned his head to her, his eyes full of wonder and of apprehension.

"You…Are you…accepting me?" he asked, the vulnerability steeped in every minute movement.

"Yes," she said again, this time with a confidence and a recognition that caused a smile to blossom across her face. "Yes, I will marry you."

She knew that she was smiling ridiculously, beaming even, but her expression was the dull flicker of a waning candle compared to the sheer volume of light that seemed to encompass Robin then, such was his relief and happiness. He reached her in one long stride and kissed her with more intensity than he had just minutes ago.

"You said yes," he breathed, kissing every inch of skin on her face.

It made her dizzy. It made her swoon. It made her more frightened than she had ever been before.

Because, somehow, she knew that he was now hers. An infinitely precious gem.

And as blissfully overjoyed as she was, her pessimism stood out in glaring contrast. Now, she had something to lose. But his warm lips on her flushed skin made that risk seem entirely inconsequential.

"Does this mean I'm forgiven then?"


	3. Chapter 3

_Pre-show. Robin/Marian. Part trois in which Marian celebrates her birthday and Robin has some good news. And a special thanks to all of you who reviewed, it makes me feel all gooey inside and gives me tons of that wonderful writerly incentive!_

_As always, I don't own it, I'm merely a dabbler. _

_Please review and enjoy!_

"A suitor party? Are you attempting to torture me?" Robin hissed in her ear a few days later, though there was some minute spark of amusement in his voice.

She had half the mind to simply walk away from him right then because she didn't like the way he seemed to wrap himself possessively around her even when she was well out of his embrace, but she was as exasperated with the event as he was.

It was her seventeenth birthday, which did give an excuse for such festivities—which she disliked anyway as she hated the pomp and circumstance, but especially the inane twittering of high strung guests—but her father had further manipulated the occasion into being a "celebrating her new-found womanhood". Which, of course, was merely a smoke screen for his actual purpose, which was to find her a husband, good and swift.

"You are getting older Marian, and must be protected," he had said earlier in the week, pacing in front of the dining table at Knighton Hall where she was sitting, as per his request. "You are my only daughter, and I will see you secure and happy. I think it is time you began taking an interest in your future. I have arranged for some young noblemen to come to Nottingham in celebration of your birthday. I will expect you to be gracious and polite and make an effort to secure yourself some safety and position as befitting a woman of your intelligence and beauty. And to _not_ ignore your guests by spending time with Robin."

She argued with him, naturally, afterwards, pointing out that she could _hardly_ be happy with someone who she did not love and who only wanted her because of who her father was. She didn't add that a certain boy that was a five minute ride through Sherwood was the only one she would consider (and had actually accepted) and even he drove her completely mad on most occasions.

And yet here she was, dressed in fine gold silks and _engaged_ to a man who was entirely too prone to passion and jealousy to be entirely predictable.

She smiled widely at him. "I do believe you have an equal chance," she teased, managing to train her face blank. "I'll let you know by the end of the night."

"An _equal_ chance? Against Durham and Hull? That isn't even a _competition_." He gave her a roguish smile. "I am much prettier than they are."

She rolled her eyes but did give a short laugh. "And an ego so large as to impress all the men in this room. And as for the party, this was hardly my idea. I think my father thought had I had a normal party, I would not have any friends to fill the space he afforded."

He looked a bit put out. "I am your friend."

She had to mentally tie herself on the nearby pillar to keep from kissing away the pout that was on his lips. "Robin, we've hardly ever been just _friends_. And anyway, this is one of the only ways you would have been invited. My father thinks that it is getting to be improper for me to be with you so often."

He looked like a gleeful child whose prank had turned out to be funnier than anticipated. "I am being painted as a roguish fiend by your own father." He paused. "Hang on, he is _just_ beginning to think that it is improper? Marian, think of all the _opportunities_ that were wasted!"

Marian slapped his chest and glanced around as he grabbed her around the waist and forced her to stand between his legs as he sat on one of the stone window ledges. "I must admit, though, you are far better at sneaking around than I gave you credit for," he whispered huskily in her ear. She fought the urge to moan as his hands caressed up her abdomen in a way that she _knew_ would get her killed, buried, exhumed and killed again by her own father.

She took his hands in hers, though this simple task was accomplished with about as much finesse as trying to catch a trout with bare hands. He squirmed, unwilling to stop touching her. "Robin, _behave_ yourself."

He heaved a long, burdened sigh into the crook of her neck where he had rested his head. She bit her lip forcefully, hoping that simple action would keep her from doing anything more unwise than wrapping her arms around his shoulders.

"If I must." He suddenly grinned. "But fear not, I have other ways of pleasuring you."

Marian felt her entire face illuminate at the innuendo, and he laughed quietly, kissing her forehead.

"You are so easily flustered, Marian."

She scowled and took a step back, defensive at his mocking. "And you are crude."

"That may be," he agreed jovially, but then grew serious. He took a deep breath. "I brought you something."

She was genuinely surprised. She could not ever remember receiving anything from Robin beyond a woefully picked flower and hastily written verses on scrap parchment. And many more unpleasant objects when they were younger. She had never needed more. "You needn't have. You want to marry me. That is more than I could have asked for."

He smiled self-consciously; the expression did not rest quite well on his face. "But it is your birthday. And I _wanted_ to," he insisted, realizing as she did that he hadn't ever been one for bestowing gifts.

One of his hands was resting lightly against his side and he brought it up, carefully cupping his hand and unfurling his fingers in front of her. Whatever the gift was, it was precious to him.

She gasped as his palm glinted, revealing a beautiful silver and sapphire ring.

"Oh Robin. It is…" she could not come up with an adequate finale for that sentence.

"It was my mother's," he said quietly. He furrowed his eyebrows when his articulate Marian was at a loss for speech. "So…do you like it?"

She laughed and then kissed him enthusiastically. "You should take that as a yes."

He positively sparkled as he leaned back in and gave her a swift kiss before taking her left hand. He kissed the back of it and then her bare finger where the ring was to go.

He slipped it on, her eyes on how concentratedly he did so. As if he was willing the entirety of himself into the slim band. He kissed the jewel and then raised his head up to love her some more.

She splayed her fingers and gazed at the ring on her hand. It looked as if it had been always been meant to rest there, and she wondered now why she hadn't noticed such a conspicuous absence.

She threw her arms around his body, an uncontrollable smile breaking free onto her face as he fell back, slightly unbalanced, a light laugh escaping him.

"I'll give you jewelry all the time if I get reactions like this."

"It is not just the jewelry. Though it does help," she teased. She leaned her head back to gaze at him, allowing him to gauge her sincerity. "I will never forget this day." He kissed the top of her head and hugged her tighter.

"Marian!" her father's voice broke through the reverie, obviously agitated that she was neglecting her own party. She closed her eyes, holding onto the last moments of freedom she would have for the evening.

"I must go."

"One kiss," he pleaded, the glint in his eye indicating how very, very much he enjoyed flirting with danger. And her. Perhaps at this juncture they were one and the same. "Surely I deserve it."

She glanced around, the small alcove shading them only enough to be unnoticed if someone wasn't paying close attention. She turned back to him and bit her lip.

"One kiss," she resigned.

His arms encircled her waist possessively and enveloped her flush against his chest. He didn't waste any time, all usual banter preserved for a time that was less desperate, less filled with playful, potent lust. But he didn't so much as kiss her as much as both of them vault at one another. She wrapped her arms around his neck and lost herself in the feeling of being loved, though they had not said as much.

She tried to pull away from him gently after a few moments of recklessness, but he followed, his teeth playing with her lower lip in a way that didn't allow her to stray far from him without bodily injury. She placed a hand on his cheek and caressed it lovingly.

"Robin," she said, very mildly scolding, with a contented smile on her face. He gave a long sigh and turned his head to kiss the palm of her hand.

"Yes, yes. Go be wooed."

She arched an eyebrow. "You are encouraging wooing?"

He adopted his cocky grin. "I do not find you as the type to be easily wooed. But I figure, if I have an equal chance for your affections, as you so say, then so should they."

"It is not equal when you have an unfair advantage."

"And what would that be, my lady? Though I admit, my charms and my prettiness _do_ precede me…" he winked and she laughed quietly.

She grew serious after a moment, her voice low but sincere. "You already have my heart, Robin, there is nothing for them to woo. That is the unfair part. They cannot hope to succeed, but are completely oblivious to it." She smiled proudly at him, before she was drawn into another kiss, this time short and passionate.

He gazed at her with such devotion after that she found it impossible to walk away from him at that moment. "Marian, I--"

"Lady Marian! Ah, there you are! I was hoping you would join me for the next dance." Robin gave a frustrated groan as Phillip of Rotherham fairly bounded toward them. He bowed low and held out his arm, the feather in his cap so low it tickled the stone floor. She tried to restrain a smile as Robin rolled his eyes dramatically.

"Of course," she said, taking his arm with a winning smile that was not meant for him.

Phillip beamed at her and then turned to Robin who was rocking on his heels in the fashion of someone in an accepted third-wheel position. "Locksley," Phillip said rather stiffly, nodding to Robin formally. "Still showing off with a bow?"

Robin gave a slight, mocking bow. "Rotherham. Still unable to ride a horse after our last meeting?"

Marian could not contain the very un-ladylike snort that emitted from her, to which Robin gave her a sly grin, and Phillip looked taken aback and more than a bit furious.

"It is a wonder, Marian, how you can stand being in such—_unsavory_ company. Life must be so terribly trying for you."

"At times, yes, but I endure. Especially when tantalized with such mysterious tales. Tell me, why were you unable to ride a horse?"

She glanced at Robin, who gave her a look of unrestrained pride and admiration.

All for mocking his competition. He could be such a little boy.

"I do not think that it is a story fit for a lady to hear."

"Trust me, she has heard worse," Robin said bluntly, his arms folded over his chest now and his lean form propped against the wall in such a way that Marian wanted nothing more than to provide Phillip a leading role in a far more interesting story of pain and throw herself at Robin.

"From you, undoubtedly," Phillip sniffed. Robin narrowed his eyes.

Phillip turned back to her, patting her arm pityingly. "You talk to him often, do you Marian?"

"There is more than _talking_ going on," Robin muttered in her ear, just loudly enough so Phillip could catch it. Her cheeks boiled and she gave him a rough shove, appalled and annoyed at his possessiveness. As much as she disliked Phillip of Rotherham _that _was certainly uncalled for. Not to mention if that little bit of information got back to her father…

"Robin. Go away," she snapped, her cheeks still flushing a deeper color than even Phillip's velvet clad proffered arm. Robin gave her a mocking smile, the smoldering in his eyes telling her that he was no longer amused and instead being pushed to the edge of his tolerance. He gave a similar bow as he had for Phillip, but this time at her.

"My lady. Do enjoy yourself." With that, he stalked away rather childishly. She tried to quell the overwhelming desire to do the same.

"Good riddance, I must say. Would you accompany me for a dance now?" Marian nodded her head demurely as she was hastily led back into the Great Hall for not one dance, but six (with some of the men practically tripping over themselves to secure her good graces and her dowry).

It was all very tiresome, and she secretly wished Robin would come spare her, at least for one dance (and she had hoped his timing would be just so, because George of Murton was an infamously horrid dancer). But he had stayed across the room next to the large buffet with Much--who was less concerned with Robin than he was with his turkey leg-- shaking his head at her whenever he happened to catch her eye and scowling.

At one point, she had felt Robin's eyes leave their gaping of her back and had actually considered going to look for him before she realized that he had probably been planning that. She stubbornly moved to her next partner.

By the last dance, she had become so annoyed with the constant thought of him consuming her mind (making her clumsy and even more prone to being tripped by George of Murton) and the return of his scowl that she refused to even acknowledge her partner—who was attempting a poor show of small talk—and pretended she could not hear her father's stern demands for her attention.

But even Marian didn't have a will of steel. It finally became too much, and after one trod too many on her already sore feet she excused herself hastily from the arms of George and decided to eliminate the source of the problem.

"Locksley, I need to speak with you. _Now._"

He had decided to adopt a new tactic (ignoring her completely), and only responded when she kicked him, none too gently, in the shin.

"Bloody…For God's sake, Marian, fine."

She took his forearm and dragged him out into one of the empty corridors. She wondered briefly if all lovers' spats happened in empty corridors, and if it was ordained one way or another to stay sequestered, as it _was_ suspiciously convenient for certain activities once the arguing had dissipated.

"You, Robin of Locksley, are acting like a child!" She exclaimed, facing him with her hands crossed over her chest. "Grow…"

He still refused to look at her. "Grow up, yes. You've said that before," he bit back with annoyance.

"You were listening then? This was my father's idea, Robin, not mine. Do not take your baseless jealousy out on me."

"Baseless?" he responded sharply, taking a step towards her and drawing himself up angrily. "I have had to stand there half the night watching my _fiancée—"_

"Sh!" she hissed, her eyes darting toward the door.

"Watching my fiancée," he continued as if she hadn't interrupted. "Parade around in front of me with at least ten different men! How in God's name could I _not_ be jealous?"

"Because I do not _want_ those men!" Marian exclaimed in frustration. "I am wearing _your_ ring. Had I been searching for other men, I would not have accepted it."

He had the grace to pause for a moment, but didn't look moved. "You do not seem to be rejecting their attentions."

She threw up her hands, now thoroughly irritated. "I am doing this for my father, that is the only reason I am even tolerating being pursued by men that either want my position or my wealth."

"You do not have to do this!" Robin said, matching her tone. "I've already spoken to your father!"

Marian stared at him. "What?"

He found a keen interest in one of the torch mounts, and crossed his arms across his chest defensively. "I asked your father this evening. That is why I wanted you to listen to him last week in the castle. I did not want him to be angry with me for helping you disregard his orders." He shrugged, trying to act nonchalant. But there was something suddenly victorious about the way he held himself. "He agreed."

Marian simply remained staring at him as he tried valiantly not to look at her, the shock more apparent now than when he had proposed to her. Her _father_—her "allow-me-to-lecture-you-about-the-follies-of-impropriety-and-spending-too-much-time-with-that-dangerous-Locksley-boy" father—had actually _agreed_?

At that realization, she decided there was really only one thing she could do now that the shock of the entire situation was suddenly over.

With more forwardness than even she had thought she was capable of, she launched herself at him, pinning him against the wall with her body and kissed him more fervently and with more conviction than she knew was at all pious.

And this time she did catch Robin completely off guard.

He stood without touching her as her hands ran up and down his chest, her heart throbbing and only one thought occupying her mind. _I am going to be Robin's wife, Lady Locksley._

She smiled against his lips as he finally registered that his fiancée was accosting him and his hands twitched back to life, touching every part of her that he could reach in a sort of fevered frenzy, eliciting, to her embarrassment, some rather loud and…well, _wanton_ noises from her lips.

She felt the curved smile on his lips as they pressed against her skin turn into a smirk, and she had half the mind to simply leave him in the corridor.

But, by God, it felt so _good_. Secretly, she couldn't help but feel a little buzz of some sort of female contentment that he was enjoying what she was doing to him, his movements needy and insistent. Begging, as he had never before, for her, for her love.


End file.
